Of Castles and Chantries
by HeavenlyMuse
Summary: A chronicle of the adventures of Lady Cousland to save Ferelden and end the Blight. Fem human noble/Alistair. Rated T for safety.
1. Chapter 1

Alistair was standing at the moment, pacing around the campfire when Terriwyn quit her tent. The elder of the two Gray Wardens pretended to watch her without any interest as she dropped her armor into a heap at the campfire. It seemed apparent that she planned to clean it while she relieved Alistair of his watch shift. It was just now midnight; her timing was impeccable.

She seemed a petite, average woman without the armor. Placing her gear carefully on the ground, her green gaze turned up towards his, "Alistair?"

He was pretending not to notice her arrival. "I'm here," he called from the far side of the campfire.

"It's my turn for watch. Go get some sleep."

Alistair stepped over towards her and paused by her armor heap. She settled on the ground and focused on her gear. Alistair had a question burning on his mind, but he was not comfortable enough to ask it. He stood above her and she busied herself in what she was doing, either unmoved by his presence or uncaring, he wasn't sure which.

Alistair knew this was not like her; she was always so warm and talkative. However, Alistair heard her screams and her shrieks in her sleep as he stood watch this night. He wondered if she had more dreams of the Archdemon... that worried him, because he was not having the nightmares himself. Was it possible that she was just more sensitive to the nightmares then he because he was a Gray Warden for longer? However, if the Archdemon were getting closer to them…

She turned her round, pretty face up towards his. He was still standing there dumbly, and she quirked a curious eyebrow into the air. "Is all well with you, Alistair?"

_I should ask you the same question, _he thought.

He openly fidgeted to the question, "Well, I –ah, I was wondering about… the shield you carry," he bent down and picked it up the distraction. "It is of excellent make – and the symbol on the outside seems familiar to me. Is it your family's crest?"

Her back when straight and she froze momentarily. Then, she slowly looked up at him, a fake, soft smile plastered on her face, hiding some sort of sadness behind it "Yes. It's my family crest. It was my… father's shield."

"Well, it's very… nice. I just wanted to – mention it." _So, no dice_.

"Thank you."

She glanced at the shield for a long, thoughtful moment, and then turned back to her armor. She was gripping her rag so hard her knuckles were turning white. Alistair noticed she was rubbing so furiously in the same spot he was afraid she was going to rub a hole right through the breastplate.

Terriwyn was trying so hard to hide whatever it was that was bothering her, and Alistair felt like a fool because he knew nothing about her or about how to calm her down. Did his comment about the shield offend her?

Alistair decided to drop to the ground beside her.

She rubbed furiously and never took her gaze from her armor, "Aren't you tired, Alistair?" he got the sense she was trying to send him off.

"No… not really," he lied, feeling the symptoms of exhaustion tugging at his limbs and his eyelids. "However, if I polished my breastplate as hard as _you_ did I might be," he quipped.

She seized up instantly and dropped the rag to the dirt. She avoided his gaze and placed her hands on the shield by her lap, "I'm… I'm sorry."

Alistair's stomach tightened up, and he bumped her shoulder with his, "For what? You mean you aren't planning on blinding the darkspawn with the reflection from your armor? I think it's a good tactic , I mean, sight is so overrated anyway—"

Alistair looked over to her a noticed a small smile playing on her lips, and he relaxed a little bit. "You should be more diligent with your armor – maybe the darkspawn wouldn't be drawn to the _smell_," Terriwyn answered victoriously.

He put his hand over his heart and made foolish death gestures, "Ouch… you stabbed my pride, dear lady—and you didn't even need your sword!" Alistair also removed his breastplate from his torso and put it on the ground. He placed his sword and shield down, but within reach, "Perhaps you're right. You need to give me a lesson in caring for my armor."

"Right now?"

"There's never any time like the present."

They shared a small, shy laugh. A light breeze blew past them. Terriwyn put her armor to the side and looked up at the stars. Alistair was mindlessly tending to his, and then put it to the side as well.

Alistair swallowed and put his hand over her on her lap. Her felt her tighten up – only momentarily, like a reflex – and then immediately relax. She seemed to be shaking. "Terriwyn," he started slowly, "did you have another nightmare about the Archdemon?"

He got lost for a moment in her jade-fire green eyes when she looked at him indignantly. He tried to amend quickly, "It's nothing to be ashamed of. I remember my first nightmare – Duncan 'forgot' to tell me and I damn near hid under my bed."

She didn't say anything and sighed. "You… heard me?"

He nodded and quickly apologized, "I should have warned you," he finished, taking the blame.

Alistair caught her looking at the shield again. He wanted so much for her to open up, and he felt like a stumbling idiot. Never before had he met a woman that made him feel such extreme emotions – he never felt so nervous or unsure of himself in anyone else's company in their little band but her's; then spent all his time covering for himself by making jokes.  
Alistair's warm hand was still wrapped around her smaller one. He looked at her soft, feminine hand with the pretty nails and the long fingers. They looked like a noblewoman's hands despite her training as a warrior. Her hands were so cold – and he wasn't sure – but it felt as if her hands were shaking, too. She did not resist his touch and Alistair felt shockwaves pulsing through his forearm.

A long moment passed between them thus. No words were spoken – none were needed.

"I didn't have a nightmare about the Archdemon," she said quietly after some time.

He turned to her, confusion in her eyes, but he nodded to encourage her to continue.

Her brows furrowed. "Didn't Duncan tell you anything about me?"

"Uh, well… as I recall Duncan went to Highever about recruiting a _man_ named Ser Gilmore if memory serves. He sent me ahead to meet him in Ostagar. I was surprised when I met you there and I found a woman. So, no – Duncan did not tell me much of anything about you. There was never time."

She sighed. "I _am_ from Highever – my father was Teyrn Bryce Cousland."

"Your skill with a sword betrays your nobility," he explained, knowing he was dumbly filling the void with idle talk, "I would have never guessed. I thought the daughters of teyrns would be – I don't know – picking flowers or brushing their hair or something. But not a warrior…"

Terriwyn shrugged, "My father had my brother and I both trained. He taught us to both be strong, fair, confident. My mother was not too fond of my training, but Father insisted. Even though I am in my twentieth season, I think Mother wanted me to walk around with long dresses and flowers in my hair all the time," she mused.

Alistair pictured her in long skirts and smiled to himself. All that nobility… and she wasn't married. Maker's breath, she wasn't even stuck up about it, either. Not like the people he met growing up at Eamon's.

"She used to tell me it was the 'softer arts' that made my father fall in love with her," she paused, looking into the fire. "My mother held many parties and such, hoping I would find a husband, but I usually just flashed my sword 'round a bit and they ran."

He smirked at her and picked her chasing the men off, but she was not facing him, so she didn't notice. He just nodded encouragingly, allowing her to speak of whatever was on her heart.

"My mother would get so furious… but my father would laugh and laugh. Oh, Maker – how I will miss that laugh." She sighed heavily. "I guess it doesn't matter now," she said sadly, as her eyes welled up. A single tear slid down her cheek and she hung her head. She seemed about to lose it all.

Alistair's daydream faded away, "What do you mean?" his throat was dry.

Terriwyn took a deep breath, "The Arl of Amaranthine, Rendon Howe – he, my father, and my brother Fergus were to march to Ostagar with their troops for the battle," her voice cracked and she stopped. She bowed her head. "The King promised me justice and now I have none!"

Alistair said nothing, feeling his stomach stretch tighter than a drum. She was always so curious of everyone else's story, no one ever listened – or even cared to ask – for her's. Alistair felt like he was privy to something the rest were not.

"Howe betrayed my father the night before the battle. Howe mortally injured my father, and my mother stayed behind to defend him, to buy me time. Duncan found me as my father was bleeding to death… and he dragged me off, kicking and screaming, to Ostagar, to become a Gray Warden."

Alistair's mouth was hanging open slightly. "Oh, Terriwyn… I'm so sorry. I had no idea. Your name, the crest – I should have recognized it and been more sensitive."

"It's … there was no way for you to know."

"I just wish there was something proper I could say," he squeezed her hand inside his.

To his surprise, she leaned her head against his shoulder. He froze for a moment and wrapped his arm around her small frame. _Grief does strange things to women_, he figured. The scent of her brown hair filled his nose and he felt his knees go weak – thank the Maker they were sitting.

"I keep seeing my parents in my dreams, bleeding out, and dying… I feel like I failed them."

Alistair was shocked she was opening up, surprised that their "fearless leader" was so… human. "How could you even say that? You've become a Gray Warden, the leader of our group, you're working to save Ferelden, and you're defending others from the Blight. I know they're proud of you."

She nodded her head and stared into the fire, "No," she was shaking her head, "I should have stayed and defended them until the death – and instead I ran."

"_That_," he warned, "is your grief getting the better of you. What did you tell me when I said I wished I was in the battle with Duncan? When I said I felt like I abandoned him?"

"I told you that we need you..."

"Your parents sacrificed themselves for you because they knew you were meant to do something greater." Alistair grimaced, "And if we don't end the Blight, we'll met the Maker soon enough ourselves."

Terriwyn seemed to consider his advice. She wiped the tear stains on her cheeks with her palms.

"You're right. Forgive me… I didn't mean to get upset."

"After the way you let me blubber on about Duncan I owed you one," he patted her shoulder. "We're the last Gray Wardens. We need stick together, help each other out."

She nodded, sighed, and seemed to get a grip on her grief for now, "I suppose you're right, Alistair, but don't you want to go to sleep? We leave at first light for Redcliffe."

He smiled, pulled himself a bit closer to her side and squeezed her hand, her presence making all his tiredness melt away to be replaced with a boyish infatuation, "Nah. I'm enjoying the company."


	2. Chapter 2

It seemed like a really long fortnight.

She figured her trip to Redcliffe was going to be mostly straightforward. That was before she was called upon to defend the village from an undead horde, enter the Fade to slay a child-possessing demon, and then be sent on a seemingly wild quest for an urn of ashes of the prophet Andraste. _And here I thought being a Gray Warden was all about killing darkspawn… oh, and having nightmares._

Yes, she had been having plenty of those. And Alistair, Maker smite him – was so glib when she asked him if there were other changes her body would undergo from the taint. Alistair had no advice to give other than impending nightmares and perhaps a ravenous appetite. He was right on both counts; it was both nightmares of her father and hunger pangs that brought her to the balcony of Redcliffe castle this evening.

She was dealing with her parents' death well, she believed, until they went to retrieve the urn. The Gauntlet, the vision –her father's face, his voice, his laugh – it set her right back to the beginning of her grief. She persevered for the Arl's sake, and survived the return trip. Her ever-growing party was permitted the honor of sleeping in Redcliffe castle for the night while Arl Eamon recovered thanks to the Ashes, and Terriwyn couldn't even enjoy the warm bed or the silken sheets.

When she closed her eyes she saw her father's face, and once she was so exhausted to not see him anymore, the hunger pangs threatened to tear her stomach to pieces. Terriwyn tossed and turned in the bed, and finally decided to get up. Although she was tempted to raid the panty, she thought fresh air might be a better – and more civilized – option. She stepped over her hound who was sprawled out on the floor at the foot of her bed and scratched him behind his ear. He licked the inside of her palm once, and went back to sleep. Then, she quietly stepped through the castle in her bare feet and found a door that led outside.

The night air was chilly – and it was calm, serene. If one didn't know better, it did not seem like a Blight was threatening the land at all. Even the water seemed eerily still. Below her and across the lake, torches were extinguished as people rushed home to their families, to eat dinner, to go to sleep in their own beds. She leaned against the ramparts and pulled her cloak closer around her. A wave of homesickness washed over her.

Terriwyn thought of Highever again. And then her stomach growled loudly and painfully.

Her mind wandered in effort to think of anything other than her ravenous hunger. She thought of her brother, wondered if he was even still alive. She refused to believe that someone as capable as Fergus was unable to survive the battle. How would she tell him that he was now the Teyrn of Highever. How would she face him and tell him of his wife and child? And if Fergus was dead, did that mean the family duty fell to her? As if being a Gray Warden wasn't already enough responsibility, she would have to deal with the t.

The people of Lothering told her about all the refugees that passed through – if those people were able to escape, why not Fergus, too? Fergus was a Cousland, after all, and no fool – it would take more than a few darkspawn to best him.

The Couslands were strong warriors, but usually poor at affairs of the heart. She thought of Alistair and sighed heavily. His handsome face, his warm hand, his ability to tell a joke at the worst possible time! It was so infuriating, yet so welcome. Her feelings for him were growing stronger by the day. Terriwyn was certain that Alistair felt something – maybe not to the depth she did – but at least something.

Then he had the drop the bag… he was the bastard son of King Maric. It was all too much to take in. Now, she was certain, with an impending civil war and the need to unite Ferelden under one monarch – what if they picked Alistair? He swore he was a Gray Warden and no king – but if the people wanted someone of Theirin blood on the throne, Alistair was as good as gone from her.

It felt strange, being here at Redcliffe Castle, knowing that this was the very place Alistair spent the first ten years of his childhood. She wanted to run up to the older servants, ask them if they remember Alistair as a child, and hear all the stories of his childhood antics. Then again, she also wanted to eat an entire turkey leg, and she knew she wasn't getting that.

While she daydreamed, she heard the door creak behind her. She had no weapon, was wearing her night clothes, and was feeling terribly defenseless. Terriwyn gathered her cloak closer to her torso, if to hide nothing more than her dignity. She turned, hoping to find Alistair there, but was surprised to see Bann Teagan.

He smiled genuinely, but awkwardly, "Good eve. Pardon me for interrupting your reverie, but the servants told me that you came by this way, and I wanted to make sure you… didn't need anything."

_Not unless you can end the Blight and bring my parents back to life._ "Hail, Bann Teagan," she nodded her head in reverence. "The room is lovely, and both a welcome and drastic change from sleeping on the ground. We all appreciate the hospitality."

"Glad to hear it."

He stepped to her side, but maintained a polite distance. The silence between them felt awkward, unlike the silent moments between her and Alistair. Sometimes they just didn't need words She felt like she needed to fill the void.

"How is the Arl doing? Well, I hope?"

Teagan nodded, "Yes, thanks to you. The Ashes seem to be reversing the poison. The healers believe he'll be back with us in a few hours. Then, of course, we have to tell him everything that's transpired in the past few weeks."

"I know that Alistair is relieved the Arl is recuperating."

"Indeed. It's been over a decade since I've seen Alistair. The chantry made him into a fine young man."

"I'm sure that it was thanks to your family as well," she offered.

"Oh, that reminds me," he paused, and went through the pockets of his brightly colored, puffy-sleeved silken shirt. From his breast pocket he produced an amulet and held it out to Terriwyn. She took it from him, the long chain spilling out of her palm. "This belongs to Alistair. The Arl… when he fell ill, he asked me to make sure it was returned to Alistair – in case he didn't survive."

"But don't you think now the Arl would rather give it to Alistair himself?"

Bann Teagan smiled at her, "I'm sure it will mean just as much if it comes from a fellow Gray Warden."

Terriwyn felt her stomach tighten. And then another hunger pang. The discomfort must have been rather evident on her face, "Are you well, my lady?"

"Yes, fine."

Bann Teagan seemed to study her face. She felt slightly disconcerted. Terriwyn could tell there was something he wanted to ask her – Alistair made the same face when he wanted to ask her personal questions.

"Forgive my abruptness, but I've been wondering something about you since your arrival to Redcliffe."

She nodded at him encouragingly.

"When I met you over two weeks ago, you felt so familiar to me. Do I know you from the Landsmeet?'

Maker curse her noble blood! "Yes, perhaps. I accompanied my father once or twice to the Landsmeet."

"Then who is the father of such a lovely woman? I wish to congratulate him for raising a child that is as good of a person as she is a beautiful one."

"My father was Teyrn Bryce Cousland," she felt a strong blush rising up from her feet threatening to burn her face redder than the darkspawn blood she drank.

"Oh, my lady. Forgive me. I heard about what happened to your estate. Please, forgive my rudeness."

"You were not at all rude, Bann Teagan. If anyone has been rude, it was I for walking around this estate without permission."

He waved off her pleasantries with a hand. "I didn't expect – a tyern's daughter and a Gray Warden, too? That is indeed an odd pairing."

"In a Blight we all must do our part. Even a Teyrn's daughter."

He smiled softly at her, his eyes sparkling in the moonlight.

She didn't feel comfortable to talk so much about herself. Some days she even felt a tightness in her stomach when Alistair looked at her after she did all but bare her soul to him. It was moment of weakness, that night at the fire, when she cried and told him about her family. But even still, Alistair never seemed to judge her. He accepted her past, and she was forced to accept his, royal bastard and all.

She was usually good at disarming her own discomfort in a situation by prodding the others for information about themselves. At least it worked for the people in her party – they were so eager to talk about themselves they usually didn't ask Terriwyn any questions.

"Bann Teagan, I do not remember you from the Landsmeet. It was a few years ago and I was quite foolish then. Tell me about yourself."

"I fear, my lady, there is very little to tell."

"Somehow I doubt that. I know Arl Eamon is your brother, but do you have a family of your own?"

He looked at her profoundly with his deep blue eyes. Terriwyn thought he was a bit handsome, but certainly too old for her. He was easily fifteen, maybe twenty years her senior. In an instance of arranged marriages among the nobility, it probably wouldn't have seemed to be a big deal, but Terriwyn wanted nothing of that. Thank the Maker her father was willing to humor her.

"No, my lady, I have no family to speak of, save of that of my brother. I am unmarried for now. Forgive my boldness, but I could only hope to marry someone as beautiful and formidable as yourself."

_Flatterer._

"You are too kind, Bann Teagan," she answered honestly, blushing.

"It is quite strange that a teyrn's daughter at your age is still unmarried. Is it not?"

"Yes, it was quite a bone of contention for my family. However, my elder brother married and had a child, so I was off the hook for a while."

"Why did you not yet marry?"

She looked at him and blinked, as if he question had a simple answer he could not comprehend, "Simply because I was not in love."

He laughed out loud, "Now you're starting to sound like _my_ brother. The King was quite angry with him with he married an Orlesian so close to the end of the war," he laughed quietly to himself, "But Eamon insisted that love conquers all. I will let him know that there are others out there who share his sentiments."

Terriwyn offered a fake smile, all this talk about marriage made her feel right back at home – it was all her mother harassed her about as well. Well, some things never change.

Bann Teagan was laughing to himself, "Because you were not in love…" he repeated softly. "Well, at least it saves me the trouble of having to ask you then," he finished.

Her heart skipped a beat. She opened to mouth to say something, but found no words.

Bann Teagan laughed, "Don't worry. I wouldn't do you the disnonor," he got up to leave, "I see the way you look at him. Maybe you should go and give him that amulet."

And with that, Bann Teagan bowed, turned, and left her outside on her own.

Terriwyn was stammering to herself. Maker's breath, was she really that easy to read?

And then her stomach growled the loudest it had all evening.

--

A/N: So I'm going through my second Cousland playthrough and I made it to Redcliffe. Something I missed the first time through was Bann Teagan's… flirting? with Cousland. I thought it could use some looking into.


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